Polvo de Estrellas
by saphirice
Summary: When Antonio Carriedo wished on a star, he hadn't expected one to actually fall to his feet. He also hadn't expected it to have an Italian accent or an irritability as flaring as the smolder of starlight in his eyes. This is the story of how magic, adventure, and the night sky's reflection on the ocean helped to solve the anarchy that is living, breathing human emotion (Spamano).
1. Chapter 1

He wonders what else is out there, sometimes.

Beyond the amethyst curls of twilight smudged across the sky; past ozone and oxygen and atmosphere.

And no, he doesn't mean aliens - yeah, those are probably out there too, and that's great and all, but not his current summit of interest. He means...well. The universe. Just in _general. _

This generation has gotten it down to a science: hydrogen, helium, plasma; star clusters and nebulae and solar flares. All the typical sort of stuff that students pore over textbooks to brand their memories with.

Earth is like...Earth is like a hundredth of a quark on an atom compared to the gaping whole of space. Probably less.

You can't _possibly _tell him that the human race knows all there is to know about the universe.

And he isn't exactly a cosmologist, all right? In fact, he's _supposed _to be being productive right now - instead, Antonio sits on the powdery sand and watches the horizon consume the rounded tip of the sun - but he's firm in his belief and will stand by it until (impossibly) proven wrong.

A streak of light is smeared across the sky and disappears as quickly as it had come. Antonio smiles to himself and wonders if twenty-five is too old to embed his wish on the already-dissipated comet.

He eventually comes to the conclusion that it isn't.

* * *

An auburn-haired young man with energy seeping from the very pores of his skin points to a record cover, milk chocolate irises glittering as he glances at his brother. "This one," he says, finger skimming over the title. "I like this one."

"Lola Lovina?" another one asks, his physicality nearly identical to the formerly mentioned supernova of enthusiasm, save for darker hair, greener eyes, and taller stature. He grimaces, unimpressed. "Feliciano, _no. _I don't even need a goddamn name. It's not like I'm going to be making myself really well known while I'm down here."

It doesn't look like Feliciano has even heard him. "I mean, Lolo doesn't have a very nice ring to it at all, but Lovina kind of does...Except, it sounds kind of feminine, doesn't it? And you're not a girl, are you! So...um...hm..."

The elder sighs and crosses his arms. "Feliciano. This isn't necessary. _Your _name isn't necessary."

"Ohh, don't be like that! It's fun to have something to call yourself on visits!" Feliciano's brow furrows, his eyes glazed over in thought until a burst of revelation ruptures it. "Lovino!" he says, loud enough to turn some heads. "How does that sound, Brother?"

Feliciano's brother winces at the use of the word _'visits' _and shrugs a little; scratches the back of his neck. "If you like it, then sure, why the hell not."

"Mm, great! Are we ready to leave, then?"

_I've been ready to leave since we first got here. _"Yeah. Let's go."

Feliciano smiles, takes..._Lovino _by the wrist, and tugs him out the door into the street.

"Next up," he says, "we'll find you somewhere to stay."

"Is it necessary?" Lovino asks, and Feliciano nods firmly.

"Believe me when I say that it's hard to find anything to do with yourself when you don't even have anywhere to live!"

Lovino isn't convinced, but he follows his brother down the street and past candy-colored buildings.

Feliciano is murmuring to himself, silently evaluating every apartment or hotel he comes across, as if only the _top of the top _could ever _possibly _think of accommodating his brother.

Which, again:

_Not. Necessary. _

Lovino just wants to get these six months over with and _get the fuck out of here._

He doesn't like it. He doesn't like the feeling of air on corporeal skin. He doesn't like the noise or the color or his dampened senses.

He feels supersaturated; one more day, and just _watch, _his hydrogen-laced guts are going to spill out all over the ruddy earth under his feet.

And Feliciano? He _likes _it. He likes the feeling of being tamed lightning in a bottle.

Lovino has long since stopped trying to figure him out.

The air is thick with the stench of salt, and this doesn't lessen the more they walk towards the edge of Portofino: a colorful seaside town with water and scenery and basically everything Feliciano likes and everything Lovino _doesn't. _

(Not that he has a huge reservoir of comparison, but when he said he liked Italy the best he had meant somewhere like Rome. Leave it to a blend of fate and Feliciano to flick him into this hellhole of a village.)

"Oh...maybe we'll get you a beachside rental house, yes?" Feliciano is saying, and Lovino doesn't have the energy to argue that no, that's what _Feliciano _would like. So instead he doesn't reply and continues to follow Feliciano's lead.

Feliciano eventually drops Lovino's hand, apparently trusting that he won't run off and attempt to sacrifice himself to the sky. Lovino does follow, but he lags behind, his vitality levels low as hell. He's only been here for a _day, _all right? He's a little overwhelmed. And Feliciano was going to leave later, and..._fuck, _he'd be alone for a period of time that he didn't even understand. How long was a month? Multiply that by six?

He preoccupies himself by wallowing in self-pity and stress and confusion; and, thus, he hardly even notices when he collides with a man, who stumbles back a little and bends down to pick up the paper he had dropped as a result.

"I'm so sorry about that," he's saying, in a butchered version of what Lovino and Feliciano had been speaking to each other thus far.

Lovino blinks and steps back, eyes widening fractionally. He wasn't prepared for this. Feliciano had told him he wouldn't have to interact with any of _them. _

Paralysis consumes him like flame, and he feels a sharp flare of some unnamed emotion in his chest. He isn't familiar with the feelings this body is supposed to experience in the _slightest, _but based on what his brother has told him he thinks it's somewhere along the lines of 'panic.'

Unsure of what else to do, Lovino turns on his heel and briskly starts off in the other direction.

It's to no avail.

The guy shouts after him (_"Please, wait!"_) and, based on the sound of high-frequency footsteps, the person is running after him.

Lovino stands up straight, takes a deep breath, and turns around, almost barging into the stranger a second time.

The person looks up, meets Lovino's eyes, and his breath hitches in his throat a little. He quickly coughs into his fist, runs a hand awkwardly through his hair, and seems to regain himself from whatever episode he had just had with a "Sorry again, but I think you dropped your...um...Ngh, how do you say -"

He remembers Feliciano telling him something about most people speaking English if the one they're speaking now fails, so he switches to it and finds himself saying, "You don't have to speak Italian if you're clearly awful at it," before he can stop himself.

Wonderful. Sink yourself deeper into a situation that already belongs in the eighth circle of Hell.

The young man sighs in relief and holds up a watch. "I think you dropped this," he says in accented English that's slightly different from the lilt Lovino has in his own voice.

"That isn't mine," Lovino replies tersely.

"Oh? But it was right on the ground -"

"Not mine," he repeats. He doesn't have anything but the clothes on his back. And, you know, an entire tempest of concentrated stellar energy writhing inside of him.

The man looks down at the watch confusedly, like it's an alien object. "Well," he says, "I guess I'll just go put it where I found it. In case its owner comes looking for it."

Lovino nods, a marginal tilt of his head, and begins to shuffle past the stranger in pursuit of his brother.

He hears his name being called and sees Feliciano confusedly stumbling through the streets, clearly looking for him. Lovino huffs a laugh and waves at him, to which Feliciano lights up like a comet and skips toward him.

"I thought I had lost you!" he laughs, scratching the back of his neck.

"Not lost," Lovino replies, tossing a look over his shoulder at olive skin and chocolate hair. The first human he had ever communicated with. Give him a goddamn award.

* * *

It takes them a (very long) while, but eventually they find a hotel that Lovino didn't really want but was tired of weaving through the city to look for.

Feliciano dishes him the ungodly amount of money he'll need to stay here for six months - Lovino doesn't know where he got it from and doesn't particularly want to ask - gets him checked into a room, and bites his lip a little as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet.

Lovino ignores him, and goes to stand by the window.

When tension begins to thicken until Lovino's choking on it, he sighs and says, "Is there something you wanted to say, Feliciano?"

Feliciano's moved on to nervously swaying back and forth, and he shrugs as he casts his line of sight towards his shoes.

"I...Oh, Lovino...You'll take care of yourself, right?"

Lovino turns around, the disgust clear on his face. "There's nothing to take care of," he sneers. "I'll be fine. Just. Leave."

Finally, Feliciano's restraint crumbles. He rushes forward and flings his arms around Lovino like they're an iron trap, sniffling into the side of his neck.

"Let go," Lovino says, but brings up a hand to rest on Feliciano's shoulder.

"I'll miss you," Feliciano sniffs.

"Yeah, yeah."

His brother steps back and wipes at his eyes; they aren't even supposed to be _able _to cry. "It isn't so bad, Lovino, really. Hey, maybe you'll be like me and find that you really like it!"

"Yeah right," Lovino snorts.

Feliciano's lips twitch downward. "But even if you hate it...It's only six months. Six months, and then they'll let you come back home. And I know you can't really understand the time here yet, but trust me, it's a super short amount of time."

"Mhmm. Just go, Feliciano."

"I...Okay. Okay, Lovino. See you in...see you in six months. I can hear Grandpa yelling at me; I've already taken too long in getting you situated."

Feliciano gives him one last weak, loving smile and steps out the door.

And he's alone again

* * *

**hey hey thanks for reading B)**

**i'm...kind of slow with updating, but i got out of school for the summer yesterday, so hopefully that'll speed things along! i _will _finish this though, so never worry.**

**and psst you know the drill, writers take a lot of motivation out of reviews**


	2. Chapter 2

It isn't like he doesn't notice the occasional bloom of an electric circuit in his headspace; he knows what Feliciano is trying to do and silently begs him not to go through with it.

Feli hardly even gets the chance to, because Lovino closes the telepathic wire between them immediately, before Feliciano can really expand on anything.

But it's still there, occasionally: a faint, background static hum that lets him know he isn't alone. Or, at least, puts on a facade to do so. Either way, he thinks it may be the only thing keeping him from losing his fragile humanoid sanity so soon into his imprisonment.

He's been stuck in this room for what he believes to be two days; it isn't like he needs to eat, or sleep, or breathe even, so he just...

He just _sits there, _and he's pretty sure that boredom is the very first emotion that he really, truly comprehends.

He preoccupies himself occasionally by stationing himself at the window and observing the town below, watching people scurry around like drunk, mindless ants.

In fact, Lovino does this so often and with increasing frequency that he begins to...notice things.

For instance: There's this teenage girl who weaves in and out of shops around lunchtime, two small children trailing after her.

A young woman in boisterously pink attire who zips through the streets, cell phone cleaved to her ear, like her life depends on getting to that business meeting on time.

And then there's the young man from a couple days ago, who seems luminous with vicarious energy from the sun as he walks along the water until he can't be seen anymore. Every time he returns, his shirt is soaked through and droplets of water cling to his hair and skin, making him glitter in the afternoon showers of sunlight.

Lovino thinks he may be the most interesting of them all. He's seen him go out of his way to flash infectious smiles at those whose auras are heavy with negativity and buy food from the supermarket for that one orphaned kid who emerges from the alleyways occasionally. The man isn't quite as immersed in his own selfish, personal world as the others seem to be.

* * *

By the time Lovino is on the streets and the coolness of non-artificial breeze is dancing on his skin, he still isn't quite sure how he got there or why. He guesses that stir-craziness can affect anyone and, well...every_thing._

He feels more than slightly claustrophobic, yes, and his innards are squirming with anxiety, but he's already all the way down here. He doesn't see the point in backing out now.

He forces one foot in front of another, and then he does it again, and soon enough it becomes an autonomous rhythm and he's one step closer to blending into the human society.

If he detaches himself from the situation, it's...

Well.

This isn't _so _bad.

The breeze that the ocean ushers towards the town is pleasurable, and it's so early in the morning that the streets are still asleep and the sky is lavender, flakes of white spattered across it and the full moon pearly and overt.

_...Lovino?_

He almost trips and falls into the water.

It takes a few moments for him to remember how to become part of the plasmatic signals he's receiving, and even then, his body feels encased in ice with the shock and energy that immediately courses through him once the connection is opened.

_Feliciano,_ he sighs, when he figures out how to manage the telepathy in corporeal form. _You know you're not supposed to contact prisoners. You'll get in trouble. Go away._

_I know, I know that! I just... _Lovino can feel the nervousness burning through the link. _I wanted to make sure you were doing all right. You _are _faring well, aren't you?_

Lovino shrugs, even though Feliciano can't see, and sits on the edge of the wooden dock, bare feet dangling just above the water. _Well enough, I guess. I'm not dead yet._

_You can't die anyway._

_Metaphorically, then._

Silence. Tentatively, Lovino dips his foot into the water. The feeling isn't unpleasant.

_Lovino, um...remember that time I got sent to solitary confinement for ten thousand years?_

Lovino shudders. _That's kind of hard to forget, yeah. Why?_

_I never - I never told you why, did I?_

_No. I'm still resentful about that, by the way. Fuck you._

_I'm going to. Right now._

Lovino kicks at the water, and the droplets go showering seven feet out. _You're just telling me _now?! _After fucking hundreds of years? And honestly, what makes you think that _now _is the best time?_

_P-Please don't be angry! You would've annihilated me on the spot if I had told you when we were both stars!_

He groans and runs a hand through his hair. _Fine, then. Spit it out._

_While I had my first prison time, on Earth, I...met someone._

Lovino looks up at the sky like doing so will bring him face-to-face with his brother. _And...?_

_I don't think you understand, I...We didn't even know it was possible, we thought they were the two emotions that we had cut out of our human forms' abilities, but -_

_Stop. _His brain isn't functioning. He isn't processing it. While constructing the molds that they were concentrated into and shot down to Earth as punishment for the breaking of any given law, they were always careful - so, _so _careful - to take out the part of the brain that processed love and lust.

_Feliciano._

He's met with silence. Shame bleeds into the link.

_Are you trying to tell me you -_

_Yes! You know exactly what I'm trying to say!_

Lovino doesn't know how to respond. _That makes sense, then. Why they isolated you. God, Feli, that's forbidden on so many levels._

_No, Lovino, it isn't. I mean, yes, it is technically - but. I don't regret it. Not a single tiny bit._

_What...?!_

_It's unlike anything I could ever describe, Brother. Think about every supernova we've ever witnessed; think about every beautiful thing we've seen in our thousands of years of existence. Combine it all together and multiply it by five hundred. That's what it feels like._

It's something that Lovino cannot even imagine. _You're deranged._

_I'm not. I'm in love._

_Present tense?_

There's a soft sigh, and Lovino can't tell if it's Feliciano or the water or the wind or all three.

_Present tense, _Feliciano says.

_...Does Roma know?_

_Of course not._

_They'll exile you._

_I don't care._

_Is this why you like to come down so often?_

_..._

_It is, isn't it._

_..._

_Goddammit, Feli. Just. You should go, before you get caught._

_...Mhmm. You're probably right._

The connection between them is severed with a pair of mental wire cutters, and Lovino's head spins with the sudden loss and recoil.

He has a lot to think about, but he doesn't want to waste the one moment of peace and ease he's found here, on this dock, with the still-sleeping ocean and sky. This is likely to be one of the only few times he'll be down here, and stressing about the fucking idiot that is his brother won't be doing any help to him. He'll have time once confined in that goddamned hotel room again.

The sun isn't making much process on waking up, and the sky still looks stained purple. It's silent, save for the occasional whisper of waves or breeze.

It's shattered when he hears a distant whistling that sounds suspiciously human. Reluctantly, he looks around, and - _fuck everything._

There are three things wrong with the situation:

A.) There is a man.

B.) The man is walking towards him.

C.) The man is the same man who tried to force a watch that wasn't his on him.

Lovino stands up and begins to walk away so quickly he forgets just how close he is to the edge of the dock.

He miscalculates his next step, and his foot goes plunging into nothing.

He shouts a curse and is utterly defenseless to the crushing weight of gravity as his body follows it into the water; thank fucking _god _he doesn't have to breathe, because his body's immediate reaction is to flail everywhere in panicked desperation, and if he was human he'd definitely be dead.

The water is thick and slushy and disgusting and he absolutely _hates it; _not only that, but because he can't seem to figure out how to go upwards in it, he's probably doomed to sit at the bottom on the sand for the rest of his time here.

Just when he's giving up on trying and is accepting his fate, the distinct sound of something shattering the water next to him makes his eyes snap open in alarm, and he stops throwing every voluntary muscle about. Before he can even process what's happening, a form is wriggling through the water, wrapping its arms around Lovino's waist (something he is going to incinerate whoever this is the fucking _second _he gets the chance to for) and thrusting him up. On instinct, one of Lovino's arms fly skywards and grasps the wooden dock; it's followed by another, and with minimal difficulty he is able to pull his drenched, sopping body onto the platform.

He lays on the wood and groans, just barely able to gather the willpower to get to his feet and wipe off what he can of the water.

His apparent rescuer hauls himself out of the ocean a second later, hacking up water as he drags himself onto the dock and collapses there like a dead fish.

"Are you..." He has to take a few moments to catch his breath. "Are you all right?"

Lovino resists the urge to kick him back in the water, if only just to avoid this situation. It's like this guy is _out to get him. _"Yes," he says, as calmly and as blandly as he can manage.

Shakily, the young man stands up and smiles at him. "That's good. And you're welcome, by the way."

Lovino doesn't respond. He shakes himself off one final time and _flees. _Without looking back.

Okay. Well. Maybe he looks back _once._

The man isn't on the dock anymore, he's following him like a freaking stalker, biting his lip in trepidation. His eyes widen a little when Lovino's gaze mistakenly meets his.

Lovino, in his surprised flare of irritation, can barely harness the surge of astral energy that suddenly fizzes right beneath his skin, pleading to be released.

"Do you want something?" he snaps, and the young man shyly breaks their eye contact and shrugs.

The gesture is startling different from the atmosphere Lovino had thought he usually gives off.

"This is the second time we've run into each other; I just thought it was sort of funny," he says, once he finally decides to speak and/or explain himself. "Originally, I just saw you out here by yourself, and I thought you were new because this was only the second time I've seen you around here, and..."

He rambles on to explain that he had just wanted to introduce himself, especially after the events of the watch situation. He says that he's new to Portofino himself, and is actually just here on a visit for work, but he's good at remembering faces and, apparently, Lovino gives off an extremely stranger-ish vibe.

"And so," he concludes, "_are _you new? Because, in my personal opinion, nobody deserves to be alienated, especially in a new home!"

"I'm...new," Lovino confirms, every instinct still itching to sprint off in the opposite direction.

"Ah, see, I knew it!" The man smiles and extends a hand. "I'm Antonio."

Lovino stares at it confusedly. If this was some sort of weird human thing, Feliciano had never told him about it.

Antonio's smile falters, and his arm awkwardly swings to his side. "Erm, all right then. Um. Can I at least get your name?"

Lovino narrows his eyes at him.

"Ahaha, or not..."

"Lovino."

Antonio meets his eyes with sickening quickness, his entire face illuminating in triumph. "Nice to meet you then, Lovino."

Lovino can't quite say he shares the sentiment.

He thinks Antonio can tell that he wants to leave, and yet he isn't letting him because he tries to start a _goddamn conversation._

"So, what brings you here?"

Lovino begins to walk away, tossing a bland "Reasons," over his shoulder.

Antonio darts past and sidesteps in front of him; Lovino doesn't stop walking, so Antonio just walks backwards like an idiot.

"That's fine, you don't have to tell me. I guess it's not really my business in the first place. I don't see you that often, do you live far from here? And oh, what are you doing down here so early in the first place?"

Lovino stops. He takes a deep breath, tries to calm the annoyed tempest inside of him, and looks Antonio dead in the eye with as much hostility as he can gather. He wants to end this before Antonio can get any wrong ideas about how much he really wants his company.

"I don't live far, I'm staying in that hotel over there. I'm down here this early only because I _thought _it would be my only chance for some peace. I was, apparently, very mistaken."

"Oh..." Antonio says, looking surprised, rejected, and downcast all at once. "I'm very sorry if I said anything to offend you. I _have _heard from a lot of people that I can be...ah...excitable. Annoyingly so."

Lovino nods in agreement.

"...Well, I guess I should get going, then -"

And it's this precise moment that any chance Lovino could have had at living out these six months silently and invisibly goes up in furious, irreversible flame.

Because just as Antonio waves goodbye, turns around, and finally begins to walk away, something sears through Lovino's skin, sets every nerve synapse alight with piercing, white-hot pain, and erupts in his skull; his knees crumble and he cries out in agony, and he's vaguely aware of Antonio cursing and rushing back to his side. It might not have been Antonio though, he doesn't know, because his vision swims, his insides churn scathingly, and his world detonates into blackness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Remember when I said that the updates would be slow?**

**...**

**Yeah, me too.**

**Summer has left me with with a disgusting amount of time on my hands though, more than I was anticipating for, and in my boredom I don't really have anything to do _but _work on this damn thing. So frequent chapters, enjoy B)**

* * *

There's definitely something sort of..._off..._about Lovino. Antonio can't quite put his finger on it, but the aura that seeps from every pore in the Italian's skin is not unsettling, in particular - it's just really, really weird. Alien. Exotic.

When he randomly decides to crumble to the ground, blacked out, Antonio definitely isn't all that reassured.

He hisses a curse and falls to Lovino's side, overlaying the back of his hand to Lovino's forehead; there's no fever - he's too cold, if anything - but a surge of static electricity stabs at Antonio's hand and, in his surprise, he's forced to withdraw it and shake away the lingering pinpricks of pain.

He tries again, and the result is no different.

Deciding that he doesn't want to think too hard on it, Antonio knots together all the courage and determination he can and scoops Lovino up in his arms. Not that he isn't half-expecting it, but his arms and chest automatically feel ablaze, like they're cocooned in live, unprotected wire. It's like holding something colder than ice that's so frigid it's seethingly hot. Something colder than ice that's a really good conductor of electricity.

On autopilot, almost - the part of his brain that's logical has long since short-circuited - Antonio dashes for the little motorboat on one of the docks and leaps into it with robotic grace, turning the keys into the ignition and accelerating towards the not-too-distant island that his sleepy little rental house resides on. Reasonably, he should be whisking Lovino away towards a hospital, but he isn't familiar enough with the town to know where one is or how long it'll take to get there. He's pretty good with the medical supplies he's got at home, and in his blurred state of mind he's determined that that'll be enough.

Besides, something tells him that a hospital isn't the ideal place for Lovino. Call it clairvoyance.

* * *

As a child, Antonio had been thoroughly infatuated with everything that fiction stood for.

He sharply remembers splashing along the coasts of Spain in search of mermaid scales or staying curled up by the pile of ashes that clumped together on the floor waiting for a phoenix to unfurl from them, unknowing that they were simply waste from the butt of his father's cigar. Even now, dreams of magic and longing for adventure take up ninety percent of his childhood memories.

As he matured, the years whittled away at the multitude of that sort of thing, but that didn't particularly mean that he was ever one for stability and boredom.

He certainly went on adventures, just not the ones eight-year-old Antonio had kept burning in his mind. He wanted to travel, and he wanted to be free.

He had also always had a searing, imperishable passion for the ocean.

Now, don't get him wrong - He grew up as a respectable child and, eventually, a young man. He went to college and was able to maintain good grades, even though he had a tendency to get a bit air-headed.

The second he had his Bachelor's degree, he sold everything he owned.

Every. Single. Thing.

To say that he got criticism for it was like saying that the universe was _sort of_ big.

But did Antonio care? Hell no. He was happy. And you know what? It was his life; who was anyone else to have a say in it?

So now, he travels. Anywhere.

His consciousness inches towards a country, prodding at it with curiosity, and Antonio follows it like putty.

There is a parasite, of course, that consistently tries to eat through the free-spirited happiness his mind is saturated with. It hisses at him that he'll never have enough money to keep this up; he's going to go broke and end up living on the streets.

Realistically, he knows that it's probably right. But that'll be in a few years at the least; he had some pretty valuable possessions, and he has his own independent marine biology research system that he gets money for sometimes if he submits his discoveries to universities and such; and, on top of it all, he has a very rich, ever-growing history with part-time jobs.

But he doesn't want to think about that now. He may regret it later on in life, sure, but he's young, and wants to live that youngness to the fullest.

(Worst comes to worst, Gilbert and Francis love him too much to let him be bankrupt and homeless.)

He's an adult now. He's a mature, independent adult.

But occasionally, that doesn't stop him from slipping into his childhood ways and sprawling out on starlit grass; it doesn't stop him from being spellbound by a sky that looks like black construction paper that a toddler spilled a can of glitter on.

Sometimes - _sometimes - _he wonders if it's truly possible that there's a smattering of magic in this world. If it's possible that there's more than a smattering - if there's enchantment laced in the ground under him; infused in the rivers and the sky and the core of the Earth.

He knows it's stupid, but there's no harnessing with certain species of imagination.

* * *

Lovino no longer holds the conducting abilities of an electrolyte, nor is his skin woven of dry ice. He's breathing now, too, something that Antonio is going to assume is a good thing.

He hadn't even needed to do anything, really. He had set Lovino on the couch, and when the fabric didn't get set ablaze, he scurried to his first-aid kit. By the time he came back, it was as if Lovino had simply fallen asleep.

He puts his hand on his forehead again, and not only does he fail to get electrocuted, but the temperature is that of a normal human being, maybe with a small cold.

It's only now that it occurs to him that Lovino is probably going to slaughter him when he wakes up and finds himself in some stranger's home. And this is just based on what he knows of him so far.

It occurs to him that maybe he overreacted a bit and treated the situation like someone had just died.

But then again, if someone was in obvious pain, his immediate reaction was to help them out, obviously. And to his credit, Lovino hadn't been breathing at all. Or, since it was impossible for someone to go that long without oxygen and live, his breaths were barely marginal.

But oh god, what if Lovino calls the police, and he gets him arrested for kidnapping, and -

Something on the couch stirs.

Antonio freezes.

So do his electric circuits, because all the light scintillates and blinks out.

Lovino groans and unsteadily sits up, setting his face in his hands and threading his fingers through his hair.

He looks up, and is paralyzed when he meets Antonio's gaze.

Neither of them say anything, but Antonio's heart is caffeinated with adrenaline and has taken to trying to shatter his rib cage open and claw its way up his throat.

Lovino looks around, absorbing his surroundings. He doesn't look quite human - His eyes are wild, like they have all the energy in the universe concentrated into the hazel of his irises; his hair at this point has become the mess of a person who hasn't slept in three weeks. His movements are slow, smooth, and raw. He looks at Antonio again and tilts his head slightly to the side.

And now, Lovino looks somewhere between alien and confused kitten.

"Can I get you anything?" Antonio asks, like the idiot he is.

"Yes," Lovino says, and he sounds like the sterile air before a hurricane. "Away from here."

Before Antonio can respond, Lovino tries to stand up and fails miserably.

"Whoa, hold on," Antonio says, taking a step towards him, but cautiously, like he's approaching an aggressive dog. "You're still weak. Stay on the couch, I'll get you a glass of water." His voice is a lot calmer than his mind is.

Lovino glares scathingly at him, but readjusts himself so he's comfortable on the cushion. Antonio scrambles into the kitchen and slams the door shut behind him, leaning up against it and staring wide-eyed at nothing.

He just brought a stranger - a seemingly very hostile stranger - into his home. Not only that, but the waves of energy that roll off of him just don't _sit right. _Even being in his presence is unsettling, like Lovino isn't supposed to be here.

He's slightly scared. Slightly terrified. Of what, he doesn't know.

He takes a few seconds to calm himself down, gather his courage, and fill up a glass with water from the fridge. He strides out to the living room as casually as he can manage and sets the cup on the table. Lovino stares at the glass like he doesn't know what to do with it.

"Or, if you're not thirsty, that's all right too..."

Lovino shakes his head and picks up the cup.

Immediately, the liquid fizzes and foams and smokes; two seconds later, it's vapor in the air. The glass begins to bend and conform to his hand until it melts completely and spills thickly to the ground.

Lovino startles, and his head snaps up to look at Antonio, eyes wide with a blend of alarm and fear, like a child caught doing something he wasn't supposed to. He doesn't look confused though, and his reaction is a lot milder than Antonio's Spanish cussing and uncomprehending guttural noises.

He sits/falls down and thinks over not only what he had just witnessed, but the way Lovino's skin had burned him, how...Maybe the waiter spiked that soda he had earlier. Maybe he's dreaming, or he needs sleep and when he wakes up in a few hours Lovino will have never existed.

* * *

Based on the reaction Antonio's giving him right now, Lovino is assuming that spontaneous heat of fusion and vaporization isn't a common occurrence.

It's just...It's weird, though. He's known that he has that sort of capability since he first got down here, but it's easily manageable. He can control the tide of his energy as he pleases - not like he's had the chance to practice this a lot, until now.

He doesn't have a sliver of memory past the all-consuming pain back at the docks, but he knows that something in him feels dislocated. Not a limb or a muscle, it's just a nagging sensation.

Coincidentally, energy seems to stem into everything he touches now. The fact that this couch is still intact is a miracle.

Frowning and deciding that he's going to solve this right now, he stands up with resolve in his eyes, ignores the mess that is Antonio on the floor, and walks towards the wall. He focuses on the staccato starbursts of power and magic bubbling in his chest and bloodstream, pours gallons of concentration into getting them to diminish, and slams his palm against the wall. There's a faint crackling sound, but nothing else happens.

Triumphant, Lovino uses the same determination to wick away any loose strands of hyperactive yearning for release and destruction and wring them out into a small pit nestled in his rib cage, where he deposited all the rest.

It's there at his disposal, but he doesn't think it'll try to revolt again.

And so, the main question now is how it managed to run rampant in the first place.

When he turns around, Antonio has brought himself to his feet, and is staring at him like Lovino's an unstable chemical experiment. Not that Lovino blames him, of course.

"...Who are you?" Antonio asks, like such a simplistic question will bring everything to a resolve. "Ah, no, let me rephrase - What are you?"

Lovino crosses his arms. "I'm Lovino, I already told you that. What am I? A tourist in Portofino. Stop asking stupid questions."

Antonio clearly isn't buying it. Lovino wasn't expecting him to, but he isn't going to be explaining anything to this guy either.

"I'm thinking maybe I should leave."

"Yeah," Antonio says, still looking apprehensive. "I am too."

Lovino strides past him and out the door, and realizes that he is on an island, can't swim, and has no fucking idea how to work a boat.

Lost, confused, and distraught, Lovino curls up on the sand, hugs his knees to his chest, and stares at the sea's yellow shawl that the now fully-risen sun has cast upon it. If he had played it safe, he would be safely tucked away in the hotel room right now.

He doesn't know what happened earlier, and isn't even going to attempt to figure it out, but he knows two new things:

Pain and fear.

He hates them both. And no, he shouldn't feel the latter for something so insuperior to him, but a human knows about him, and it seems instinctual that he would be uneasy.

And he can feel pain. _He can feel pain. _He didn't even think it was possible.

He knows that humans become irrational when scared. He knows Antonio is scared of him. He needs to find a way out of here as soon as possible.

The door behind him clicks open, and Lovino flies to his feet and whips around, taking a defensive stature and bristling at the sight of Antonio standing there at the doorway.

Antonio puts up his hands in surrender and doesn't attempt to approach him.

"You don't have any way to get home," he says plainly.

"I know that," Lovino snaps. "I'll find a way."

"No," Antonio says gently, "you can't. I don't know what the hell you are, but unless you can walk across water, do you have any other plans?"

Lovino stares at him, but after a few moments his posture slumps. "No," he mumbles. "Hey, just a second ago you wanted me to leave, didn't you?"

"Yes," Antonio replies, but it's hesitant for some reason. "And you can't unless I drive you back."

He twirls a ring of keys on his forefinger, walks past Lovino, and hops into his boat. "Well?" he says. "Do you want out of here or not?"

Lovino reluctantly shuffles across the sand and steps into the motorboat, ignoring Antonio's entire presence as he faces the ocean. The boat sputters and they're on their way.

"...Maybe I should apologize for overreacting earlier," Antonio says.

"You didn't overreact," Lovino tells him tersely. "You responded like anyone would. The fact that you aren't still flipping out is a damn miracle."

"Yeah, it is," Antonio says, sounding more like he's talking to himself than anything else.

The boat comes to a stop, but they're nowhere near the docks.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Lovino demands.

"Do something again," Antonio says, eyes glittering as he leans forward.

Lovino doesn't respond. He stares at him.

Antonio seems to snap out of it, and he coughs into his arm and starts the boat again. "Uh. Sorry. I mean."

The mutual fear that had swamped the tension between them priorly is gone, and the change is on Antonio's end.

When Antonio speaks up again, his tone is far too casual for the situation. "I'm probably dreaming right now anyway, so I'm going to go right out and say that I'm kind of fascinated."

"You were scared shitless of me ten minutes ago."

"Isn't that a natural human reaction, though? We see something that doesn't compute realistically, and we kind of lose it."

This man is a psychopath, clearly. That, or he has no self-preservation instinct.

"You're weird," Lovino says, and Antonio laughs.

"That isn't the first time I've gotten that, _mi amigo._"

"I'm not your...friend."

"I know," Antonio says. "I just haven't talked to anyone in a while."

Lovino doesn't know how someone as bright as him could say that honestly or what it has to do with anything.

"How is that even possible?" he's saying before he can stop himself. "I'd think that a person like you would have people fawning over you at your feet."

The side of Antonio's lip quirks up, but he keeps his eyes on the water. "Oh? And what makes you say that?"

"Nothing!" Lovino says. "I mean. I don't fucking know. You're all bright and happy and shit."

Antonio lifts an eyebrow. "And you know this by about five minutes of actual, normal interaction with me total?"

Lovino goes rigid. He has a feeling that mentioning his very slight interest in Antonio from his hotel room window isn't going to be helping anything.

Antonio keeps driving, and the docks rise steadily into view until he's parking the boat completely.

"...Maybe I'll still see you around," Antonio says, like everything that had just happened hadn't.

"I doubt it," Lovino says, climbing out and fleeing. Without looking back.

Okay. Well. Maybe he looks back _once. _


	4. Chapter 4

It should be obvious that Lovino doesn't leave the hotel room again after that incident.

If he really thinks about it, he kind of does miss the scent of sea spray and the concrete under his feet; the water corporeal and the sky alive above him. He's only experienced it once, but he misses it.

After Antonio, though? It's hardly worth the risk.

By the time two weeks of his imprisonment have passed, he's memorized every indentation in the wall, every fleck of dirt on the floor, every shape in the ceiling. He knows that there's nothing that can be done about it, but he is impossibly, spectacularly ill with boredom.

And still, he keeps himself safe. He stays in the hotel room. He hasn't had consciousness issues since that one morning, but occasionally he'll still practice controlling his internal stellar energy and making sure everything's as it should be.

He explores the kitchen once and even brings himself to taste a little bit of the black powder in the giant plastic bag on the counter. It tastes like ground Satan and he doesn't put anything on his tongue ever again.

On an overcast Saturday, something knocks at the door.

When Lovino braces himself and goes to open it, there's no one there.

Frowning, he closes it again and goes to turn the temperature up, because the AC suddenly decides to act up and the warmth drains from the room.

He throws himself back on the couch and stares listlessly up at the ceiling; he's been doing this so often that he's surprised the contour of his body isn't indented into the cushions. There's a television, but he's tried to watch television before and ended up becoming very confused and very distressed so he gave up on it.

His feet are dangling over the arm, and for half a nanosecond, he thinks something wispy brushes up against them. Probably a nerve spasm of some sort, so he ignores it, until it happens again.

Sitting up, his eyes flash around the room, but he is unquestionably alone. Nevertheless, Lovino brings his legs back onto the couch and tries to relax again.

A tendril of something wet and cold trails up his leg, and his skin erupts into goosebumps; his lungs feel taut and he flings himself off the couch, chest heaving as he scans every corner of the room.

And still, nothing.

It's always possible that he's hallucinating, as maybe this is why humans don't stay indoors for their entire lives, because they'll deteriorate into insanity.

He is not hallucinating, because the tile floor underneath him softens and consumes his feet with molasses-like ooze.

Lovino shouts and stumbles backwards, hardly able to move his feet and almost falling into the bubbling floor under him. He uses all his strength to haul himself onto the dining table and stand there, staring with an amplifying incredulity below him. At the very least, the levels of whatever the fuck that is aren't rising, so he should be safe so long as he stands there.

Except there's a bulge in the center of the room, right where the rug next to the couch should be, and it's writhing and growing and enlarging. Two limb-like appendages burst from its side, spattering oil-colored splotches of goo on the walls as the arms twist and curl and take the shape of wings. The mass of grime breaks free from the oozing floor, and all of the substance except itself is absorbed by the tile, and the floor is...well, it's a clean floor again. Except for the part where the giant winged gob is floating in the center of the air, molding itself to look more like a mutated bat on steroids with four legs.

It spews a sound like a fork on a chalkboard and dive-bombs for him.

On instinct, Lovino thrusts his hands in front of him and lets the plasma surge from his palms, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his head away.

The thing screeches, more in surprise than pain, and hovers there for a moment, leathery wings beating and showering flecks of the black high-viscosity shit everywhere. It shakes itself off and its eyes hone in on Lovino's only slightly trembling form.

Terrified but not willing to admit it, not yet, Lovino attacks it again but if the thing was a bit shaken before, it is utterly indifferent now. Not only that - its inky skin soaks up the energy like a sponge, pulsates twice, and swells even bigger.

Lovino cusses and steps backwards like that will save his life. He knows he's technically immortal in this form, but if just the smell of burning rubber that the air is choking with is searing through his throat, he has no idea what this thing is but has no doubt that it could probably kill him.

Lovino seals off his lungs so he won't have to breathe it in anymore, but the air still stings his skin. The oily bat thing lunges for him again, obsidian claws outstretched; Lovino tries to duck out of the way, but they still graze his cheek and when he presses his fingers to the injury, they come back red and sticky.

Pain. Once again, he is forced to feel pain biting in his veins.

It attacks again in the same way, and, distracted, Lovino doesn't have the chance to deter it when the daggers delve into his chest, just below his rib cage. His hands clench at his side, but he doesn't cry out or fall to his knees like he needs to.

At such a close range, he takes the momentum and uses it to clench his fingers halfway across the creature's neck and let the power flow freely and unprotected through him. It sizzles and crackles where his hand is pressed to its neck, and some of the substance bubbles, like boiling water.

It howls in what Lovino hopes is pain and uses a wing to slam into his side, sending Lovino flying to the floor. It lands and approaches him slowly then, black frothing at its mouth as it leers at him triumphantly, as if it knows it's already won.

Lovino crawls backwards until his back is pressed up against the glass door that leads out to the balcony, but he knows that it's won too. He isn't as strong as he thought he was.

It leaps towards him, jaw unhinged.

He curls himself up into something as small as possible, sews his eyes shut, and braces himself for something he didn't think he was going to have to experience for millions and millions of years.

Death.

But it doesn't come. The thing collides with the door just above him, shattering the glass as it unfurls its wings and flies outwards. It does a U-turn, and Lovino doesn't realize that the missed attack was on purpose until it darts back for him with startling speed, curls a wing around him, and flings him out of the completely empty doorway.

* * *

He collides with what he believes to be sand a second later, but the impact isn't as harsh as the whiplash in his brain right now.

What.

The fuck.

Just happened.

He'd seen some pretty weird shit in his existence, sure, but that...that just _took the cake._

Groaning, Lovino is able to stand up, and that's when he becomes clearly aware of the atmosphere of panic, so thick that no one had even noticed that, hello, a person just got flung from the tenth story on a building onto the beach.

There's a crowd amassed in front of his hotel, gasping and muttering amongst themselves.

Lovino follows their gazes, and - _shit._

The creature has expanded so large that it clings onto the side of the building with the claws of its wings and takes up half of it, using a newly grown mace-like tail to take out story after story as the hotel begins to crumble to debris on the ground.

Even stranger still, if he listens in on the masses of people, he hears things like _"Oh my gosh, what do you think happened?" _and _"Well damn, that's pretty weird. I hope there weren't a lot of people in there."_

That isn't nearly panicked enough for a population that doesn't even think that magic exists.

The people are beginning to be ushered out by the police, and a news reporter hurries in front of a camera.

"Well, folks, here's something we don't see every day." Her composure is calm, surely through endless practice. "It would appear as though a spontaneous fault in this local hotel has brought it crumbling to its knees..."

Lovino's eyes flicker to the lens of the camera, a part where it shows what's being recorded, and the oil creature isn't there. It's just...exactly what the reporter had described, a crumbling building.

It slams him like a freight train that the humans can't see it.

And that isn't the only thing that takes the wind out of him.

Before he can even see it coming, two hands clutch at his shoulders with crushing strength, and the man before him is panting, eyes wild with fear and hair teased up into a stressed mess.

It's goddamn Antonio.

"Lovino," he says, frantic. "Lovino, I know you probably despise me or something - but _what the fuck is that thing and why the hell is everyone so calm about it?! _I'm so confused, and I didn't know what to do, but then I saw you standing here, and I figured that you were the only pers - the only thing that may have any answers, and -"

"_Shut up. _You're about to pass out." His rambling had left his face purple, and Antonio takes a few deep, gasping breaths.

And that's when he processes what, exactly, Antonio had just told him.

"Whoah, wait a second..._You can see it?!"_

"How the hell do you _not _notice something like that?!" he responds, tone still panicky.

Ah, yes, how wonderful. Because the thing Lovino wants most at the moment is more complication, obviously.

The monster, meanwhile, has made quick work of making the hotel a pile of rubble, and it stands atop its victory, wings outstretched and tail swishing. It swings its head, and its eyes freeze when they land on Lovino.

Lovino becomes motionless. So does Antonio.

But it doesn't attack. It glares at him, yes, and then begins to melt, oily goo running over the pile of debris and sinking into the ground until it's like it was never there in the first place.

Antonio mumbles something dejectedly and falls to his knees in the sand.

Lovino grabs his arm and forces him to his feet.

"Tell me how you saw it," he demands, and Antonio just looks confused.

"I...don't know. _I don't know._"

"No one else saw it."

"Yes, I noticed when I was the only one yelling like a psychopath."

Lovino regards him silently for a moment, having absolutely no idea what to do with him. This certainly changes things, although he isn't sure how.

"Was that hotel the one you were staying in?" Antonio asks. Lovino nods, slowly, and wonders if this was him trying to change the subject. That, or it wouldn't be unfitting with Antonio's personality for him to be thrown off topic that easily.

"So you have no place to stay."

Something in the pit of Lovino's stomach sinks. He hadn't even thought about that, and the wad of money Feliciano had given him was on the tabletop, no doubt lost forever in the remains of the building.

"I'm taking that as a no."

"Shut up. I'll be fine."

"I watched you get thrown out of a window, Lovino. Are you sure?"

Lovino blinks back embarrassment. "Fuck you, did you _see _that thing? How would you ever expect me to beat it?!" he snaps. Admittedly, it had been a lot smaller when he had fought it, and he still hadn't been able to put even a scratch on it...

"Why do you even care?" he asks, and Antonio smiles sheepishly.

"I don't know. I care about a lot of weird things. I like to know that people are safe and happy."

"I'm not people."

"No, you're not."

They stare at each other for a moment. "What are you, then?"

"I've already told you that I'm not discussing it. And especially not to _you."_

Antonio shakes his head, frustrated. "Why not, though? What's wrong with me in particular?"

"It isn't you in particular," Lovino replies. "It's your species in general."

Antonio scoffs playfully. "What, you mean _humans? _Being idiotic disgraces to the Earth? _Never!_"

Lovino frowns. "You're so pessimistic about your own kind?"

Antonio shrugs. "Not pessimistic. Truthful. But at the same time, we..." He smiles at the sky. "We've done so many beautiful things, too. Humanity is both good and bad, I think." He turns to look at him again. "Lovino, I'm going to admit that I'm kind of scared of you -"

"As you should be," Lovino says, slightly prideful in the sentiment.

"But at the same time..." His eyes glitter with fierce determination. "I want to learn more about you!"

Lovino grimaces and steps back. "What, so that's why you've been following me all over the place? Because I'm...some kind of _science experiment?_"

"No, no!" Antonio quickly reassures. "I just...I told you already, yes, I'm fascinated, but I also haven't really had any real social interaction since I can remember, because I'm always moving all over the place, and..." He sighs. "I'll admit it, I'm kind of lonely."

"So basically you want me to be your your science experiment _and _some _thing_ to keep you company."

Antonio winces. "No, you make it sound so terrible!"

"You aren't denying it."

"Lovino, listen, you don't have anywhere to stay, do you?"

"I'm not frail and fragile like you are. I'll be fine on my own, I already told you that."

"Mhmm," Antonio says blandly, like he can see right through it. "I'm just saying, that if you _wanted _to, ah...I always have my -"

"No," Lovino says before he can finish. "_Hell _no."

"...I can't say I wasn't expecting that," Antonio says, looking incredibly rejected.

"You have no idea what you're even dealing with, Antonio. I could snap your neck in a _nanosecond _and you're inviting me to _live with you?_"

"I don't disagree," Antonio replies with strange cheerfulness. "This is definitely probably one of the stupider things that I've done in my life, but how many people can say that they were roommates with an alien?"

"I'm not an alien."

"Might as well be one." He smirks. "There's a spare room, you can stay locked up in there for the rest of your life as far as I'm concerned. But I won't be able to sleep knowing that I left someone homeless and possession-less on the streets, whether you're human or not."

Lovino considers his options. He can live in the alleyways for the rest of his six months, hiding from people and being overall miserable, or he can have a nice, sheltered place to stay again - _shit. _Fuck it. It'll be over in less than half a year anyway.

"Fine," he says. "I'm fucking in. Are you happy now, you bastard?"

Antonio just beams at him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Right now I'm in the Virgin Islands! In other words, idk when the next chapter will be up. Oh, and thank you all so much for the reviews, each and every one of them mean a lot c:**

* * *

Living alongside Antonio is so fucking surreal.

As promised, he leaves Lovino alone, and in turn Lovino makes it seem as though he isn't even there. He stays in the guest room and does as he would do if he was still in the hotel, the only difference being the fact that he can still hear Antonio's existence through the slamming of doors and quiet singing and banging around the kitchen.

There are days when Lovino lets his fingers brush over the doorknob in indecision, but most days it's just sprawling on the bed and staring out the window. It's a very nice view, at the least.

On this particular day, he decides to compromise. Antonio had announced loudly that he's going to go out into the town for a couple of hours, and Lovino comes to the conclusion that now is as good a time as ever.

He opens the door and steps into the real world.

He hadn't really taken the effort to appreciate it before, but the house really is very nice. The floors are brown and glossy, the countertops and tables and such have perfect glimmering enamel, and the plants decoratively dispersed throughout bring it all to life, especially on a morning like this one where the sun bleeds all over everything and gives it all a golden finish.

Such an atmosphere leads Lovino to believe that if you were to look inside of Antonio's mind, this is what it would look like.

He's walking around, finally admitting to himself that yes, it's kind of nice to be able to walk around after withdrawing himself for so long; he sits on a windowsill and enjoys the warmth leaking in through.

"Whoa there, calm down. You sure this is the place?"

Lovino snaps up in a nanosecond; the voice had been in English, and it had been _close. _And the air prickles against his skin, and it feels unsettling and bad and wrong.

Something mewls, and the voice laughs. "You had your fun a week ago. Without our permission, might I add. So yeah, that's a no."

Lovino can sense that something is approaching him, and he slowly begins to creep back towards his room.

Too late, though.

The front door detonates and shatters to the ground in splinters, and a man who looks only slightly younger than Lovino and Antonio strolls in, taking his own sweet time with a bright smile on his face. His hair is a brownish sort of blond, and some of it curls up right in the front; he's well-built, and behind his glasses has irises bluer than anything Lovino's ever seen.

And on his shoulder is - uh.

It's the oil creature from who knows how long ago, but instead of something ripped straight from a sci-fi movie, it's taken to a friendlier form. A kitten, specifically.

"Anyone here?" the guy calls out.

Lovino has a heavy suspicion that hiding will be smearing salt into the wound. Slowly and smoothly, he steps out from the hallway and into the main room.

"Oh, there you are! Glad you didn't make it too difficult for us."

Angered magic and energy begin to sizzle in Lovino's blood. "Who the fuck are you and what do you want?" he asks in English, fingers flexing in preparing.

"I'm Alfred, and this here's my pal Olya. I, uh. I know you didn't get a great first impression from her, and as a result you're not getting a shining one from me. I get it, man, but we're not here to hurt you, so cool it."

"Likely story," Lovino snips, and flicks a warning glob of light whizzing right past Alfred's head, who doesn't flinch. It collides with the wall behind him and the material incinerates on the spot.

"Hey now, there's no need for that," Alfred says gently, but Lovino isn't exactly soothed.

Blindly, he wishes Antonio were here. Antonio, the nice, friendly human who had done nothing but help him despite all Lovino had subjected him to.

Suddenly, Lovino has a lot more appreciation for him.

Alfred plucks a piece of singed hair from the side of his head and examines it. "Yellow star, huh? Main sequence?"

Lovino's eyes widen, and his breathing is heavy as he stares at the man before him. "Wh-Wha?!"

"What name do you go by down here?" Alfred asks.

"Like hell I'm telling you!" Lovino snaps, taking a step backwards.

There's a sound from the doorway, and the three other beings in the room whirl around to find its source.

Antonio stands in the ruins of his door, posture frozen and grocery bags on the floor. "Oh," he says, also in English. "Um. Hello?"

Lovino looks at him pleadingly and makes a universal _"get the fuck out of here" _gesture, and Antonio looks like he gets it, but just before he's about to turn on his heel and leave, the thing called Olya leaps from Alfred's shoulder and dashes to Antonio's feet, liquid hair on end as it stares up at him and makes a low growling sound from the depths of its throat.

Antonio looks at Lovino, panicky, and then back to the creature at his feet, standing absolutely still.

He understands.

Alfred doesn't look so cocky now. "Uh...sir...can you...see her?"

Antonio makes a weak sound in response, and now Alfred just looks like a confused, lost child.

"B-But...you're...you're human, and -"

"So are you!" Lovino shouts. Now that he pays attention, there is nothing about Alfred's aura that is foreign.

Alfred just winks at him.

"I'm gonna need you two to come with me," he says, seeming to regain himself.

"Fuck you," Lovino spits, darting to Antonio's side and clenching his fingers into Antonio's wrist. He's done nothing to deserve any shit, and Lovino suddenly kindles the fierce desire to make sure nothing happens to him. Maybe he's more grateful to Antonio than he had realized.

Antonio looks at him like he's just seen God, and Lovino glares at him in response.

"Aw, how cute," Alfred says. "I'm serious, though. C'mon."

"Make us," Lovino replies, and Alfred sighs.

"Look, I don't want to use violence. I've told you before, Olya and I aren't here to cause any harm."

"Yeah?" Lovino says. "You wanna go ahead and explain yourself, then?"

"Patience, young Padawan. Follow and I'll tell y'all everything."

"Mhmm, and that doesn't sound suspicious at all."

Beside him, Antonio still looks very confused and very, very scared. Alfred snaps his fingers, and Olya gives them one last glare before floating away and onto Alfred's shoulder once more.

"Do either of you two know a guy by the name of Feliciano?"

Antonio stares at Alfred blankly, but Lovino tenses. Alfred smiles triumphantly once his eyes land on him.

"Aha, so _you're _the other half of the legendary Vargas Brothers. An honor to meet you."

"What kind of shit are you spouting now?!" Lovino demands, but the assertion in his voice trickles away with each nanosecond of use.

Alfred chuckles. "I'm assuming there's a lot he hasn't told you. I'm telling you, man, _please _come with me. I'm begging, at this point. We need you."

"For what?"

"You're so stubborn," Alfred complains. "I'm friends with your brother, dude. _He _would want you to come with us."

"Is that so?" Lovino replies. "Why don't I ask him right now, then?"

Alfred shrugs. "Go ahead."

Surprised with Alfred's nonchalant answer but still not convinced of his trustworthiness, Lovino opens his mind up to the sky, beyond the atmosphere. He hasn't talked to Feliciano since the morning at the docks, but he doesn't see why he wouldn't be able to now.

Just as he's searching for a connection, he's startled out of his focus by Alfred's sudden chain of cursing. Upon looking up, the blond is staring at the watch on his hand and running a distressed hand through his hair. "Shit, I don't have a lot of time, but _please, _just tell me you'll -"

He dissipates into thin air.

Olya makes a tsking sound, and a pair of wings ooze from her back to keep her suspended above the ground. The end of her tail frays, like a paintbrush, and she drags it across the floor, trailing blackness as it goes. She looks at Lovino and Antonio once, almost pleadingly, dives into the floor, and disappears.

"I...have a lot of questions," Antonio says, eyes glazed over.

"Understatement," Lovino snorts.

"So...you mean you don't have any idea what that was either?"

Lovino just sort of looks at him. "No, Antonio, I don't." He looks at the ground. "What'd that thing to to your floor?"

"I don't know," he replies, still sounding distant and deeply in thought. At the very least, it isn't the very first time he's been exposed to this kind of stuff, so Lovino hopes that at this point he's quickly learning to just accept these happenings and not question them.

"It's a pair of coordinates," Antonio says, examining his floor. "Hang on, I'll go look them up." He disappears into his room.

Something electric hooks onto Lovino's mind and tugs.

_You tried to contact me earlier? Is everything all right?_

Lovino doesn't respond. He presents the recent happenings to his brother as a thought.

There isn't an earthly language that can correctly translate what Feliciano says to him next, but it's an emotion of panic, anxiety, and grief so intense, so crushing, that even dappling into it a little bit makes Lovino's knees go weak.

_Feliciano, _he says sternly. _Feliciano, what's going on?_

_You have to go, _Feliciano replies. _Lovino - those coordinates, they're so important, they - _He breaks off into a wavelength of stifling pain.

_You can't possibly expect me to -_

_I do, though, _Feliciano says. _Go there. Please, go there. Go there and I'll explain everything, but now's not the time, trust me. Please just -_

_Go there, _Lovino finishes.

Something sighs in their link. _Exactly. You have nearly five months to get there and do what we need you to do. You have to. You _have _to._

_Who the hell is "we"?_

_Didn't I already tell you that now isn't the time, Brother?_

Lovino is irritated by the lack of explanation, but mainly he's scared. He's scared, because in millions upon millions of years of existence, he's never seen Feliciano this dark, this oppressive, this demanding.

He's almost angry with Feliciano for dumping this on him. But he knows what he needs to do.

_Will you come down here too?_

Their connection trills with relief, gaiety, and gratitude. _Oh, thank you! Thank you thank you thank you thank y -_

_I get it. This looks like your battle, why aren't you down here helping me?_

_I...can't._

_Why the fuck not?_

_Roma...he doesn't want me visiting anymore._

Roma. They don't have names; their names are a series of wavelengths, and yet Feliciano, of course, had felt the stifling need to dub everyone with a human name. It's just like him.

_Why not? _

_I'd...rather not get into it right now. Believe me when I say that I'll try to come down, though. It just might take a little longer. _

Lovino knows there's no point in convincing him to stay out of trouble, so he breaks the connection, sits on the floor, and waits for Antonio to return and tell him where, exactly, he's about to spend such a portion of time trying to get to.

"Antarctica," is the answer to the last statement. "It's in Antarctica, not far from the South Pole." Antonio plops himself into one of the dining room chairs and glances at Lovino expectantly.

"What the hell are you looking at me like that for?"

"Are you going?"

Lovino is silent for a moment. "I have to."

"Why?"

"I just do." Lovino stands up, as if he's about to collect his things and get ready to leave, except he doesn't have any things and he doesn't know how to prepare himself, or even how he's supposed to get there.

Antonio continues to look at him, the gleam in his eyes different.

"You stay right there," he tells Lovino sternly, sterner than Lovino's used to with him. He vanishes into his room and, figuring it'd be the moral thing to at least attempt to thank Antonio for everything before heading off, Lovino stays right there.

When Antonio returns, he has a backpack slung over one shoulder and a cell phone pressed to his ear.

"Yes...I'm leaving right now...I still had about another two weeks left here, but...Okay, thank you, ma'am!" He puts a note on the table and joins Lovino's side.

"What are you doing...?"

"I'm coming with you."

"Wha..." Lovino huffs, eyeing him incredulously. "You...you _can't._"

"Sorry," Antonio says, but he doesn't sound very sorry at all. "I won't come with you, then. I will be an independent traveler coincidentally taking all the same routes as you to the same destination."

"_No,_" Lovino says, taking him by the shoulders and pushing him back into the bedroom.

Unfortunately, this is with human strength, and Antonio's human strength is much more impressive than Lovino's. And so, Lovino is spun around and led straight out the door onto the beach.

"Antonio, please, I really can't let you -"

"_Shh. _Tell me, Lovino, how were you planning on getting to Antarctica with no transportation, no belongings, and no money, all on your own?"

And he's fucking _right, _but hell if Lovino's gonna admit it to him. He glares searingly at the ground - literally, the little weed near his foot begins to blacken and wilt - and cusses under his breath.

Antonio smiles triumphantly. "See? You need me."

And Lovino does.

Shit.


	6. Chapter 6

**And here we have our first example of me being slow as hell at writing. Uh. Yeah. I get distracted with writing little one-shots everywhere, and then this happens.**

* * *

"Nephilim."

"No."

"Incubus."

Lovino grimaces. "_Hell _no."

"Mermaid?"

"What the fuck."

Antonio sighs and puts his chin in his hands. "You're going to have to tell me what you are _some _day."

"I do not _have _to do anything. Keep your eyes on the damn water."

"I thought you were _invincible. _What good is it to you if I reenact _Titanic _with that rock over there? Here, let's start right now: _Neeear, faaar, whereeever you are..."_

"Oh my God," Lovino moans. It was going to be a very, very long ride to Sicily.

Antonio smiles and slings an arm over the steering wheel again, haphazardly making a sharp turn when they're inches away from his rock and subsequently spraying tsunamis of water all over everything. Lovino cusses him out and wipes irritably at his eyes, but Antonio's obnoxious-only-slightly-pleasant-except-it's-not laughter continues to ring out into the crystalline clear sky.

"Oh, and speaking of which," Antonio says. "You got thrown out of a hotel window. How'd you recover so fast?"

Lovino shrugs. "I heal from shit superhumanly fast, I guess. I thought it was obvious when I wasn't dyeing the sand a fashionable shade of red." It had hurt, as much as he likes to imagine it would hurt to a human, but the wound had sealed itself up pretty quickly.

"So, here's the plan," Antonio tells him after a considerable amount of time. "Our flight leaves in a couple of days at like twelve PM or something, we'll arrive in Berlin at around...hm, I don't know. Anyway, I have a friend there who can help us out, and we'll take it from there."

"If we even make it that far," Lovino murmurs, looking above him at the black sky. Because where it had been the color of aquamarine earlier, hellish clouds had progressively begun to formulate across it. Lovino hasn't been here for very long, but he's fairly sure that black clouds are something you want to _avoid _during marine travel.

"We'll be fine," Antonio says, waving his hand dismissively, but his nervous smile suggests otherwise.

"_I'll _be fine if we crash," Lovino corrects. "_You _will not."

Antonio winks at him. "So now you care about my well-being, hm?"

"I-I didn't say that!" Lovino snaps at him. "You said it earlier, I won't be able to get anywhere _near _Antarctica without you. I'm using you, so don't let it get to your head, you bastard."

"Such kind words, Lovino. I'm touched."

"Good. I'm glad." He looks at him bitterly, only to compensate for the fact that...the fact that _maybe _he may care about Antonio's well-being just a little bit. _Just a little bit. _He still doesn't know what came over him during Alfred's 'visit' that had made him go all psycho when Antonio was threatened. Humans bodies are so weird.

Antonio ups the speed of their shabby little motorboat in hopes of getting them through the fetal storm quicker, but the waves are noticeably crawling higher and higher until their boat is rather violently getting slammed back and forth like a ragdoll.

Antonio remains optimistic throughout all of this. "We'll be fine," he repeats, although Lovino isn't quite sure who he's talking to anymore.

It inevitably comes to rain whipping their faces like millions of tiny darts are being pelted at them by the clouds. Lovino just barely manages to stand up and fight the wind to reach Antonio and help keep the steering wheel steady.

Not that it really matters at the moment. They're about as powerful as a feather in a hurricane.

Rain still stabbing at his face, Lovino stands up in an attempt to look out into the distance and see how far the storm stretches; at the very least, he cannot see any blue.

A sudden gush of wind so strong it doesn't even seem possible slams him in the chest, and he goes flying backwards into the back of the boat. Something sharp slashes and digs into his side, and the storm is gone.

Just like that.

The sky is blue again, and the ocean is glass.

Antonio curses, shuts off the motor, and stumbles to Lovino's side. He doesn't even seem to be acknowledging the fact that the weather went from something straight out of Hell to the waters of Heaven in .00000002 seconds.

The pain throbs in Lovino's side, stinging and burning and everything else that makes him feel like he's about to pass out. He grits his teeth and bears it, though; it'll heal up in a few seconds, and then everything will be fine again.

A few seconds passes, and it's only become worse, if anything.

"Lovino," Antonio mutters. "Lovino, it's not closing up. Shit. You're going to die of blood loss at this rate." He stands up and races for the backpack, ripping a first-aid kit from it and then falling back at where Lovino's flooding the floor with blood.

"I cannot _die_," Lovino scoffs, refusing to believe the fact that his gaping wound is remaining a gaping wound. "What'd I fucking stab myself on, anyway?"

"I honestly have no idea," Antonio says distractedly, taking out a roll of bandages and some scissors. "There's nothing sharp back here; I swear, it's like the wind itself attacked you."

"It wouldn't be the weirdest thing that's happened to us so far," Lovino mutters.

"Take off your shirt."

Lovino blinks at him. "...Huh?"

Slightly red in the face, Antonio repeats, "I can't do anything to you with the shirt on."

Oh, right, it's sort of hard to dress a wound when you can't even get to the wound in the first place. Lovino obliges and pulls the shirt up over his head, setting it on the floor beside him. Antonio seems momentarily distracted by his own thoughts, but then he clears his throat and takes some antiseptic from the bag as well as a washcloth, combining the two. "I don't even know if you can get infections or anything like that," Antonio explains, "but I guess we might as well be safe." He starts dabbing at the gash in Lovino's side; it stings like hell, but it isn't like Lovino is going to die or anything.

Once the excess blood has been wiped away, the actual wound itself is clearer; it's like someone took an impossibly thick knife and sliced his side open, jaggedly so.

Just as the pain is starting to fade and Antonio cuts a strip of bandage from the rolls, something clicks in Lovino's mind, setting his entire body ablaze with pain; it's like that morning at the docks, except he doesn't pass out, the agony just keeps pulsating though him. He cries out, shaking madly, and Antonio immediately drops the roll of bandages and holds out his arms like he's about to wrap Lovino in them for comfort; if that was it, he ultimately decides against it (thank God) and instead puts his hand on his shoulder.

"_Shh, shh," _he soothes, looking awkward but no less serious about the situation. "You're going to be all right, just try to calm down."

Lovino manages a tiny nod and, eventually, the pain begins to drain from his body, along with all of his energy. He slumps back against the wall of the boat, panting heavily, eyes shut.

When he opens them again, Antonio's looking at him concernedly, but then he picks up the bandages again and goes straight back to work.

* * *

An hour later finds them exactly where they were two hours ago: under a cascade of sunlight as they continue their peaceful journey to Sicily. The only difference is the fact that Lovino now has some pretty uncomfortable bandages wrapped around his torso, and his shirt has been set out on the floor to dry from where they had washed the blood from it in the ocean.

"We still don't know why that keeps happening?" Antonio asks, and Lovino shakes his head.

"How long is it going to take to get there?" Lovino asks, definitely not attempting to change the subject.

"We're looking at another twenty hours." Antonio admits. "Probably longer, because I, unlike you, am not a superhuman and I need sleep."

Lovino nods. He stayed in the same hotel room for days on end. He can handle the boredom of twenty plus hours, especially with the scenery of the ocean to simulate his senses.

When the sun has long since dipped into the horizon and the stars adorn the sky with no artificial light to outshine them, Lovino can tell that Antonio's movements are getting sluggish, his face sinking a little.

"You need sleep, you look like shit," Lovino informs him, and Antonio smiles weakly at him.

"I'm fine, really. I think we're almost there." The universe above lights the water, making it still possible to navigate.

Lovino shakes his head. "You're head is gonna get so blurred with sleep that you'll get us lost. Just...Just take a break, okay? Rest. I'll take over, just tell me what to do."

"You...You'd do that?"

"Sure, whatever," Lovino mumbles, staring at the floor.

Antonio beams at him. "That'd be wonderful. Come over and I'll show you how to work this thing." Lovino obliges, and he continues. "It's pretty simple, actually. Just keep the steering wheel in this position; we're going straight ahead. In fact, we're so close you may get there before I wake up again! If this happens, shake me awake and I'll do the parking and everything for you."

Lovino nods, waving a hand to shoo him away, and Antonio shoots him one last grateful glance before curling up on one of the cushioned benches on the side and closing his eyes. Within minutes, he seems to be asleep.

He looks...Lovino doesn't know how to describe it. At peace. After a few more moments, Lovino shamefully tears his eyes away and keeps one hand steady on the wheel, the stars lighting the way.


End file.
